


there before the grace of you go i

by whyyesitscar



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyesitscar/pseuds/whyyesitscar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are meant to never wear clothes. Myka Bering is one of them. [small bering and wells drabble]</p>
            </blockquote>





	there before the grace of you go i

**Author's Note:**

> I came across the photo on Tumblr and it screamed Myka. Title and lyrics from [Eva Cassidy's](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5G860hkE0Tc) cover of "Kathy's Song".

_and so you see, i have come to doubt_   
_all that i once knew was true._   
_i stand alone without beliefs--_   
_the only truth i know is you._

Some people are meant to never wear clothes. Myka Bering is one of them.

Helena realizes, of course, that clothes are a necessity. She does not dislike clothes; Myka looks perfectly wonderful in all of them.

But this is the way Myka was meant to be seen—

(the blanket shrugged downward, revealing just the gentlest of slopes;

her back dappled with the light of a just-dawning sun;

sleep-tossed curls obscuring her eyes as they pore over her laptop, revisiting research she can never seem to quit;

a pillow propping her up, pressed against her chest in a way that makes Helena want to switch places)

—and Helena will never stop watching.

The room is bare because Artie is mad at her again and Helena is too stubborn to fix it. Save for a relatively clean mattress thrown haphazardly on the floor and a radiator that has long since forgotten silence, there is nothing in it. But there is an outlet, Internet, and the promise of good company, and so they endure.

They’re on a case in New York (if Helena actively looks away from Myka, she can remember the artifact for which they search.) Helena tries to stay away from large cities—she has preferred rural towns ever since she was de-bronzed—but she will go anywhere with Myka.

Helena stands in the doorway, clutching a bag of muffins and two coffees she knows will be lukewarm by the time either of them getting around to drinking them. She waits for Myka to make a jab at Helena’s soft side—because it’s always _you’re staring_ or _on anyone else that might be creepy_ with her—but Myka is too engrossed. Helena is too smitten to move.

(The moving part will change. Helena will forever be smitten.)

She lets herself take a few moments just to gaze, just to look at the grace of Myka’s body even when she’s not doing anything. She is soft in ways Helena was not expecting. The faintest touch of her skin seems to make Helena melt.

Helena sighs and puts down her attempt at breakfast, resigning herself to an unproductive day as she slides out of her coat. Her boots are next, then her shirt and pants, and finally off come her undergarments until Helena is clad in nothing but love and a locket.

(There will be a ring, too. It’s currently in a box that Helena carries everywhere for fear of losing it, but soon she will have to reveal it before Myka finds her out.

Helena is a romantic for no one but Myka.)

She pads over to the mattress and slides beneath the covers, scooting over to get a look at Myka’s computer screen.

“Jeez, Helena, you’re freezing,” Myka says, flinching away.

“Really?” Helena smirks. “Because you feel luxurious, darling.”

Helena can hear the smile in Myka’s voice even if her hair conceals Helena’s favorite sight. “Don’t try and butter me up; we’ve got work to do.”

Helena sweeps a lock of Myka’s hair to the side. “Do we?” she teases, kissing a perfect shoulder. “I believe it can wait.”

Myka hums as Helena’s affections find their way to a sweet spot on her neck. “It can’t,” she breathes. “It can’t wait.”

Helena doesn’t believe it for a second.

She presses on, allowing her hands to wander to places Myka will not be able to resist. “You are a magnificent creature, my love.” She nips at Myka’s ear, presses a feather-light kiss to her temple. “Mornings were made for you.”

“Helena…”

Helena dips her hand lower underneath the blanket. “Yes?”

Myka gasps and Helena smiles. She has won.

“What time is it?” she finally says.

“There is a wonderful clock on your computer,” Helena smirks.

“I’m having some difficulty focusing at the moment.”

Helena smiles and gives Myka a tiny pinch. “Not quite six, darling.”

Myka mulls this over before closing her laptop and moving it off the mattress. She pulls Helena up and into a searing kiss. This time it is Helena at the mercy of tantalizing wandering hands.  She has never felt so loved.

“I thought…artifact…” she manages to pant as Myka’s fingers grow bolder.

Myka’s grin is lascivious; her lips curl into promises that make Helena blush. She sucks at Helena’s neck and pulls the covers over both of them.

“It can wait.”


End file.
